


Through This Magical Veil

by Celinejaneway



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), swan queen - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celinejaneway/pseuds/Celinejaneway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Emma struggles to conquer her rage in prison after giving her infant son away, an unexpected outlet shows her the importance of communication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brick Walls

**Author's Note:**

> A very big Thank You to my Beta Tas and Miss Lane for her very inspiring artwork!!

The timely clank of the steel bars unlocking woke Emma from her restless sleep. She hadn't quite become accustomed to the level of lock down she was under now that she had given birth. The stench of so many bodies in such close quarters was the first overwhelming sense that assaulted her. She felt the stiffness in her shoulder from the cardboard level of comfort her cell's cot provided but mostly she felt the isolation of tall steel walls. She was being kept from the world by no fault of her own, well... that wasn't entirely true. Her fault, she realized, was her blind faith in a man. The more she thought about it she realized she was being held captive by her own stupidity. Damn Neal and his betrayal, she was going to dig herself out of this hole and never let anyone compromise her like he had again.

Her mind drifted back to the last 72 hours, as it had each moment she let her thoughts wonder. She felt herself spinning back into the beige walled room of the maternity suite as hand cuffs cut into her wrists. There had been complications when she hit the 39 week mark. Complications enough to warrant her transfer to the maternity ward of Boston General. It started with a sharp pain in the small of her back. It hadn't been uncommon for her body to ache as it expanded over the past months but this was different, a pain that was relentless. She had thought it was all routine, the level of pain she was in. There was no reason to believe the pain had been anything but a contraction. As she called for a guard to escort her to the infirmary, she felt another. Once she reached the in-house nurse, she was near toppling over. Her vision had become blurry and her feet unsure underneath her. A strong shooting pain gripped her body, she again declared her independence from the dealings of her heart and cursed Neal's name. She promised never again to be subject to this level of consequence for the sake of love. As she felt a semblance of control, the contractions shifted in their placement. She screamed for the nurse, swearing there was something wrong.

As soon as she was examined, she was hooked up to a fetal monitor. The doctors scrambled around her to bring the baby's heart-rate down. She heard numerous terms she didn't recognize but they repeated to her that the placenta was ripping from her uterine wall and they needed to get the baby out immediately. They kept saying 'he' is in distress; they needed to get 'him' out. That's how she found out she was having a boy. She hadn't wanted to know the sex of the child she was carrying. She didn't even think of it as a child, it all became too personal when she got caught up in the details.

It was easy enough to just pretend she was gaining weight at the beginning, a result of the sedentary life her job in the prison library had provided. Once the baby had started to kick however her delusion had to grow to accommodate her denial. She pretended she had food poisoning or her stomach was upset, she had gas or any other number of excuses she could come up with to keep her mind off the fact that she was indeed pregnant. But unfortunately, when you are in a maternity ward, the most hyperbolic form of denial won’t do.

It had all become a blur as soon as the pain kicked up and took over her senses. She heard the doctor say she was bleeding out but every word after blended into a drone. She could feel a small trickle of blood roll down her arm as her skin split against the pressure of her cold metal handcuffs. Every facet of the memory returned to her as quickly as it had happened but she was suddenly ripped from them with the shout of a familiar voice.

“Inspection!” The floor guard’s voice boomed through the halls bringing Emma back from her memories. “Line up for cell inspections!”

Emma was on her feet and standing in front of her bunk before she could see clearly. The floor guard was swiftly at her side, intruding on what little personal space she still had.

“Swan you’re wanted in the counselor’s office.” The guard barely acknowledged her as she threw down her stack of sketch paper, which she was allowed to use during her free time. Her pencils, a trade with her roommate that had cost her her last stamps, clattered to the floor. She heard the fragile wood of the sketch pencils split as they hit the concrete. Emma grimaced but she knew better than to react more than that. She saw the sketch of the solitary tree she could see from her barred window crumple under the feet of the cruel guard.

“Why?” Emma finally retorted. As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them. The guard turned on her heels and came within an inch of Emma's face. She smelled of dime store perfume & bologna sandwiches. What she lacked in beauty, she made up for in sheer dominance. Emma had heard of other inmates having run-ins with her but never had she had the icy glare so close to her.

“Was that you talking back, Swan?” Her breath overwhelmed Emma. She wanted to argue, to tell this disgusting woman where she could shove it but the fight it would take had left with the infant she abandoned in the nursery. Without another word Emma turned on her heels and walked toward the counseling hall.

“Be sure to tell the shrink how you abandoned a baby for a life of crime.” The guard shouted toward the exit.

Emma had almost disappeared behind the cell entrance when her worse demons got a hold of her. She charged back toward the guard, clutching at the first thing her hands could grasp. Her fingers intertwined in the guards bleached hair and Emma used a single arm to fling her to the ground. The edges of her vision blackened and began closing in the longer she let the rage seep into her. She felt her arms lift and blow by blow blood seeped from the guard’s nose. She couldn't have gotten more than three hits in before two other guards were pulling her off of the first. Emma fought against them pulling free for a mere second only to be pounded into the cell wall. Her cheek was pressed against the painted concrete and the grit sliced into her reddening cheek. Her vision began to return to her just in time to see the guard's fist hurling toward her.

Emma came to in the infirmary. She hadn't the slightest clue how long she'd been out but she was sure as soon as she was well enough, she'd face the consequences of her outbreak. The throbbing of her head came into play soon after she opened her eyes. She could feel pressure on her left cheek, seeing the bandage from her peripherals confirmed the gash she assumed was created by the wall. She slowly lifted her legs and the room began to swim.

“Woaahh don't thing you're moving anytime soon missy.” The sweet southern accent was all too familiar. It was the voice that carried Emma through most of her prenatal treatments and the unpleasant checkups afterward. “Why would you go and do a thing as stupid as attack a guard? You're never gonna get to see your baby now.”

“I gave him up. I won't be seeing him ever.” Emma continued to try and lift her head but was again struck down by the weight of her dizziness.

“I wish I could tell you why but I can't shake the feeling your story with that little one has just begun.” She swung the leg Emma had managed to get off the exam table back to its resting place.  
“Dammit, Carrie! I will never see him again, end of story, nothing left to say.” As Emma's voice rose she was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of cheap soled shoes on tile.

“Swan! You're in enough trouble as it is. You will treat the staff here with respect, which you clearly have lacked today. Not to mention 'Carrie' is Ms. Callaway to you.” The warden wasn't a small man though he certainly wasn't a fit man either. Clearly handsome in his prime, he now lacked any charming qualities. Emma had had her number of run-ins with him having been a special case due to the delicate nature she had found herself in. Warden Gallagher, as he demanded to be called, picked up Carrie's notes from the steel tray still scattered with gauze, tape & medical sheers. He mumbled under his breath as he read.

“Ms. Callaway when will the prisoner be ready to leave?”

“She sustained a pretty back blow to the head. She needs to be under observation for at least a day to rule out a concussion.” Carrie said.

“I don't care if she's on her deathbed she's headed for solitary sooner rather than later.”

“Sir, is that absolutely necessary? She is only three days out from having a baby & there are numerous medical reasons why Ms. Swan could have had an out-burst like she did.”

“Why is the state of Swan's future of any concern to you? As far as I see it she can rot to crazy hell in the hole after the last 9 months of torture she’s put me through.”

“It's just my medical opinion that she isn't fit to handle solitary confinement at the moment.”

“Duly noted but at the first sign of sunrise, she'll be telling it goodbye for two weeks.”

Emma's head sunk to the side, she'd endured two days in the hole before with little consequence but the tricks your mind can play on you in a two week period might never leave you. The warden smiled at Emma with the gleeful sneer of a rat.

“Sweet Dreams.” He tipped his hat to her and slammed the door behind him.

Carrie tried to make Emma as comfortable as possible but she tossed and turned restlessly. Her nightmares quaked in her mind, inescapable as ever. The morning didn't give her much to look forward to so her mind stayed on full alert. Even with the pain killers she was given for her cheek, she found little rest. When she did, she saw 'him' exactly as she had the first and only time. The nurses had gotten the bleeding under control and she gave birth soon after. They cleaned him off and offered him to her but she refused. She tried her damnedest to avoid seeing the child but at the last minute, her eyes had a mind of their own and insisted. She saw just how fragile and small he was. He sported a new blue hat and was swaddled in a blue and pink hospital blanket, his skin a precious pink.

She dreamt of the same hospital room on the same day a thousand different ways. She saw the baby from every angle. Everyone, nurses and doctors alike were blurs. Faceless bodies carrying her child, except one. She didn't see her at first, just another member of the nameless sea but she was there every time. First, she was in the corner of the room, then among the nurses, and finally holding the child. Not until she was softly singing to the boy did Emma really see her.

She was a mess of a woman in the grandest of packages. Her hair coifed to perfection, not a strand out of place with brilliantly alive eyes, though deeper and darker than Emma cared to see. She was a stranger, but not at all unfamiliar. She seemed to be someone she knew from a memory of another life. The woman's skin was the lightest caramel and she held a smile that seemed to shine only for the bundle she held. Emma could swear she saw a tear trickle down her cheek as she swayed the infant. Emma tried to get closer, to see more but she was still restrained. The woman looked up capturing her gaze completely. Emma woke with a jolt.

Morning crept upon her completely against her will. She didn't pay much attention to the noise of the door swinging open or the rough jerk of the guards dragging her to her feet. She might as well have been catatonic for the lack of response she gave. Carrie tried to smile to lift her burden but Emma acknowledged nothing. She saw the sweep of the halls, window panes and the clank of the secure doors as she meandered farther & farther into the belly of the prison. Nothing had changed since the last time she sat it the unadorned walls of solitary. There was a low sitting toilet and a cot, a small slit in the steel door for a food tray to be exchanged, and an 8x10 glass pane for her only example of the outside world that faced the guards station.

It didn’t take much to feel the concept of time float by her. At first she sang songs to herself until she'd exhausted all of the songs she could possibly remember. Then she ran through the stories she knew or the conversations she wished she'd had. Then came the regrets, the what-ifs and the worst of memory lane until there was nothing. Not boredom but just past it, to the far reaching side of disillusion. She got an hour a day to find a semblance of reality. Emma chose to run, to feel her heart beat and find a pulse in her dying body. It helped but not much. She extended her meal times as long as the guards would allow her to keep her tray, drawing pictures in the empty sections of the high school trays they gave her with mashed potatoes.

It wasn't terrifying until she really felt alone with herself. Until she realized she was left with only her company, something she'd been running from her entire life. All of the questions which a life of nothing but solitary years on this planet can create creep to the surface. Maybe it had only been a few hours since the infirmary, or days, no… a week. Confusion wasn't a new state for Emma just an overlooked one.

The monotony of passing time began to have its own senses. It smelled like the basement you spent your 15th year summer in; it sounded like the rain on the tin roof of the shelter you liked the least. Your mind tries to create an environment, a story to beat the crazy off. She didn't start to have hallucinations until further in. They weren't grand or even that creative. She'd see a bird perched on her bed post or a face she couldn't quite place in the design of the speckled cracks where the walls met. Each day she ate, slept, ran and thought. Oh did she think; nothing profound but constant.

She saw the same strangely familiar woman's face from time to time, long enough to memorize her features. She always saw 'him'. She wondered where he was or if he knew what had happened, what she'd done. She wondered what his parents had named him and if he'd like it. She had finally stopped crying every time she saw him in her mind. It was far too exhausting to coddle her heartbreak. The crack of the lock sounded and broke her endless questioning. It must be time for her hour of human contact.

“Had enough?” A guard leaned against the opening smugly, the scraps & bruises Emma had given her were barely visible now. Emma responded with silence. “Let’s try this again. You're wanted in the therapist’s office, pronto.” She crossed her arms and spit at Emma's feet as she passed. Without giving her the slightest glance, Emma left the cell she vowed never to return to. Though she had spent the last two weeks pacing, her gait felt weaker, constrained by her confinement.

The therapists office was too serene with its over-stuffed chairs & cliché inspirational posters adorning the walls. It was spritzed with lavender and music from a $5 convenience store relaxation CD filled the air. It was everything Emma hated squished into a 500sq foot room.

“Ms. Swan, why don’t you have a seat.” The counselor had been quietly observing Emma from her high backed office chair in the corner. Her eyes were an off putting mint green and her hair was an obnoxious red. She seemed to Emma to be one of those self-professed do-gooder types who had an income clearly above their assigned job. Her designer clothing that could never have been bought on a government employee’s salary supported Emma's conclusion. Her ease and appearance drew an automatic reaction of spite and distance from Emma. She planted her feet, crossed her arms and leaned on the closed door.

“Suit yourself; my name is Dr. Norma Delaney. You may call me Dr. Delaney or Norma, whichever you feel comfortable with. I've been informed that you missed our first session for a stint in solitary? Would you like to tell me why you were there?” The calm expression that rang through her entire body was more than Emma could handle.

“None of your damn business.”

“I can understand your hostility. Do you know why you're here?

“Probably as further punishment from Warden Dumb Ass.”

“While your hostility may be warranted, in my office you will show some respect for those in charge.” Delaney was unwavering on this point. Emma turned to leave only to discover the door was locked.

“I'm a prisoner everywhere.” Emma whispered below her voice.

“We have an hour session Emma. Its far less painful if you don't resist.” Delaney smiled pleased with her slight joke.

“Then tell me doc, why am I here?” Emma still refused to sit, her voice biting with sarcasm.

“Therapy is required for all inmates who give up a child while in the system.” Dr. Delaney offered the most sincere smile she could muster. Emma was clearly taken off guard by the frankness of the therapist's words. She'd encountered a few in the past while she was in foster care, each one fully adept at sugar coating. This one however wasn't a bullshitter. Emma could at the very least appreciate that.

Emma didn't say much of anything for the remainder of the hour. The doc spoke about procedure mainly. She would have to visit her once a week for the remainder of her sentence, which added up to about a year, not counting probation. She said a lot of things that chalked up to 'it'll be ok' and 'you did what you thought was best' but Emma refused to think about it. She wasn't going to acknowledge any of it. She had found a way before to push through the noise and she would do it again. The hour began to wind down but the doc had one final request of Emma.

“I’ve noticed you fidget quite a lot and I feel it would be beneficial to have a creative activity that can channel this extra energy; physical fitness can curb this as well. I want you to make something, anything with your hands and bring it to next week’s session. Consider it your first assignment.”

“And if I don't?”

“I consider you to be an intelligent woman Ms. Swan. You'll do it.”

Emma heard the door unlock with a jolt and she was out of her seat and in the hall before the doc could chance another exchange.

The days pasted with the same stale schedule they had since she arrived. Each morning began at seven sharp. Breakfast, shower and work assignment. She had a whole world of fantasy at her finger tips with her library job but she never indulged. She kept to herself and thought as little as possible. She didn’t think of her therapy assignment either until the day before her next session.

For whatever reason she knew her life would be a hell of a lot easier if she just made a damn craft. Sunday afternoon was “craft time” in the commons section and begrudgingly Emma ventured into the hall. Groups of women huddled around various tables that offered everything from kindergarten macaroni art to still life sketches and weaving. It all seemed impossibly childish; grown women throwing themselves into every conceivable distraction. She didn't linger long at any of the options, each one seeming more trite than the last. She dragged her fingers along the plastic cafeteria tables and passed the last of the tables within her view.

Which would be the least painful way to get her counselor off her back? Surely the doc wouldn't be pleased with a crocheted pot holder. She was almost desperate enough to return to her dorm and wing something made out of her sheets when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an elderly woman at a table just beyond the others. She was sitting alone, which seemed rather strange considering the relative lack of space in the commons and sheer number of woman crammed in today. Emma couldn't make out what she was making until she was almost on top of her.

“Is that a dreamcatcher?” Emma whispered with actual enthusiasm. The elder's skin looked as if it had folded over itself more than once in the decades she'd seen. She seemed to be of Native American decent but Emma wasn't about to guess at further specifics. The woman didn't say a word but rather took Emma's hand and laid numerous pieces of sliced leather in her hand. The remaining material was scattered over the whole of the table with feathers of a bird Emma couldn't name if she tried but the coloring was soothing.

It seemed so simple, a batch of ingredients to build a mystical piece of another world. She didn't say another word nor ask a question. She didn't feel the need to. Overcome by an innate knowledge, Emma's fingers flew over the boning, wrapping each piece of leather with the wisdom of a master craftsman. She wove the totem without instruction, knowing each piece would fit perfectly before she placed it.

She didn't know how long she had sat with the woman in silence. She drank in each second as a wanderer of the desert did water. Flashes of senses she didn't recall as her own, flooded her mind. Brick walls and vast windows, warmth and care took her by the hand and claimed her as their own. She saw a young woman's face, only a faint outline, but one who shared her features. A dainty nose and pronounced cheekbones framed by coal black hair. She knew this woman but not as she felt she'd know the woman holding the child. As quickly as the sensation had come it vanished, leaving her with an immaculate dreamcatcher in hand and no sign of the elderly woman she'd shared her silence with. Emma charged up from her seat and spun. She pulled the focus of the room. A hundred pair of eyes had the same question.

“Did anyone see the woman who was sitting here?” Emma panted. No one answered. She shouted the question again.

“What the hell is your problem? You gone off your rocker? No one was sitting next to you .Damn crazy.” The woman closest to her answered her unwelcome question. Echoes of the same response came from several of the woman around her until she felt compelled to leave. Emma watched their judgmental eyes stare like the panel of 12 that had convicted her. Her fingers wrapped tightly around her creation and she exited.

Night couldn't come fast enough for the weary Emma Swan. She undressed with little shame, in clear view of the others she shared far too much space with. She'd learned to leave feelings like guilt and shame out of reach. They served little purpose in a world without compassion. She'd drifted off before she was even fully covered by the rough blanket she called a comforter. Most nights she was greeted by a dreamless sleep and that was the way she liked it. Today was far too strange to add her imagination to anyway.

It began as a rustle of paper or perhaps the leaves outside the barred windows. Like a buzzing fly she tried to swat the sound from her resting mind. She was almost successful until it turned into a bang. The cabinet doors of her dresser clanked against the cheap wood they were made of. Emma was startled to a sitting position. She was greeted by darkness. Darkness except for the yellowed light that seeped from the now closed cabinet drawers. Her better senses told her to roll back over and find sleep. She'd need it to face the doc tomorrow but her curiosity had always been the strongest of her qualities and she tiptoed to the edge of her bed. Opening the creaking doors as slowly as she could manage, she was overwhelmed by a flood of light. If she hadn't been so tired, she might have come to the conclusion she couldn't possibly be seeing what her eyes were registering but her sleep logged mind took a moment to catch up.

Emma had hidden her dreamcatcher between the four pairs of underwear she was allowed. Though she was sure it had very little value to anyone, she also knew that most were more vindictive than they were intelligent and anything that they could get their hands on was up for grabs. That very well hidden object was now orbiting above her clothes. It was the source of the light. Emma rubbed her eyes sure she was dreaming. The image did not fade. Emma's heart pounded against her ribs. She could feel the skin of her chest shake as adrenaline coursed through her body. She'd written off the comments of the woman in the commons as more vile-natured jokes but maybe she was crazy. Surely she couldn't actually be seeing a floating dreamcatcher. Her breath picked up a faster rhythm to match her heart rate.

Emma focused on the blinding light. She thought she could make out shapes and movement beyond the obvious sphere shape of the catcher. As her hand came within inches of touching the object, it began to spin. Emma rubbed her eyes sure this dream needed to end. No matter how she tried to convince herself that she couldn't be seeing what she was, the adrenaline in her veins kept her aware of its reality. Or she could be finally losing her mind. It was the simplest explanation. After the years of trauma, she was finally falling apart. 

Before she fell too far into the spiral of her negative thoughts, the dreamcatcher stopped spinning. It began to glow the faintest blue from its center and quickly materialized an image. A sleeping child with his arms above his head. His onesie was the same blue as the light adorned with an elephant pattern in the fabric. A mobile of small charms wound above his head as his tiny chest rose and fell. Emma froze. Her bottled up trauma was seeping out of her pores now. She couldn't have fought the tears if she tried. They were a force, a collapsing wall that had her crumbling into a ball on the floor. The dreamcatcher fell to the ground as she did, in a defeated heap.


	2. Our Names Are Not Us

The winds shifted as she noticed they often did when her world was thrown upside down. Regina could feel the very nature of her being turning and, for the first time, it wasn't turning to darkness. The sky showed a shade it had never displayed for her before. The new morning was to be cherished. She felt so very out of place in her new happiness, a completely unfamiliar sensation.

Her son had only been home for a few days. The very thought of 'her son' was still baffling. She said it over and over again as she watched every thing about him. She saw how his nose crinkled when he yawned and how moments before he was about to cry his tiny chin quivered. His little fingers were wrapped around hers and she dared not to move the sleeping infant but she was exhausted. Her arm ached from Henry's constant presence. 'Henry' it was the first time in decades the name hadn't given her heart reason to ache. Regina slowly moved her right leg and then her left, trying not to wake the child.

As he began to stir, under her breath she hummed a tune she hadn't heard since she was a child. A flowing melody her father would sing to her as he rubbed her back before bed. She did the same for her child as she laid him in his crib. She was about to walk away when another tradition of her fathers struck her. Regina tiptoed to her bedroom and found her self digging deep into the remnants of her life in the Enchanted Forest. She shuffled through a half buried trunk in the back of her closet, retrieving a leather clad dreamcatcher. It was adorned with black & grey eagle feathers and beaded tendrils that hung from its crisscrossed pattern center.

She was back by Henry's side as quickly as she'd left it. She fastened the childhood heirloom to Henry's mobile and ran her hand along his hairline, kissing her thumb and touching the tip of his nose. She wanted to watch him peacefully sleep but her own fatigue proved to be stronger than her desire. She ran her hand along his arm one last time and bid her son goodnight.

Regina's head hit the pillow before she even realized she had left her son's room. As she dosed off she was filled with the first fully tranquil moment she quite possibly had ever felt. She was a part of something bigger, a family. One she had chosen for herself. She was at peace.

The night marched on as baby Henry and Regina slept but a faint glow began emanating from the nursery. A white light with the softest shade of yellow intertwined. She wouldn't have woken had she not felt the slightest pressure on her shoulder and a whispered request: 'Go to the child'. Regina was stirred by a voice she could swear was her fathers. She rushed to the nursery, its door slightly ajar. The dreamcatcher she had placed above the baby was now cascading a light on the still sleeping child. She couldn't quite see the image displayed in the webbing but it appeared to be a young woman balled up on the floor. Regina snatched the dreamcatcher and threw it to the ground. It appeared mundane once again.

Before she had a moment to think, Regina had Henry bundled up in his car seat, three layers deep in his winter gear as she speed toward an eerie house on the hill. It should have come to her that the hour was obscene to be visiting anyone but the terror in her heart that magic had found its way to her son was much worse than the social faux pas she was about to commit. Her breaks squealed as she skidded along the road, the abrupt stop of her black Mercedes kicking up gravel.

The echoes of three consistent knocks bellowed through the oversized entry way to the home. She'd half expected dead geraniums at the door step and mildewed furnishings but to her surprise the residence was tidy. Rosemary was among the strangest of scents that greeted her. She had half a mind to knock again but as she raised her manicured hand to the carved door again, it swung open.

“Do you have any idea the ungodly hour it is?” Mr. Gold's strong Scottish accent was edged with rage.

“I don't have time for your indignance.” Regina shoved the slight crack in the door wide enough for her and the bundled child to scoot through.

“Madame Mayor, I find you rudeness this evening to be more than I wish to handle. Whatever you need to discuss we can do so during business hours.” He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the door.

“Enough pretending; I know you know the truth. I know you know who we really are. I need to know why there was a swirling dreamcatcher above Henry's bed tonight!”

“It sounds to me like you're referring to a mobile and if that has frightened you to this level, I suggest the first appointment you make in the morning be to Dr. Hooper. Perhaps to Dr. Whale if you're hysteria proves you're in need of medication.” Mr. Gold let the words cut with his particular brand of sarcasm.

“How dar-”

“Please leave.” Mr. Gold uttered the only loophole Regina couldn't fight.

Henry began to squirm under his mother's tight embrace. It brought Regina back to just how ludicrous her actions had been to drag her infant son to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. Her brow was arched to its full extent and she sneered at the snide man as she backpedaled to the door.

“This isn't over.”

“Oh, dearie, but it is.”  
SQSQSQSQSQ  
The same fluorescence of Dr. Delaney's office greeted Emma as if she'd never left. The dolphin poster that screamed of the merit of positive thinking, hung in the same corner starring her down assessing her merit. Emma had decided to never be the first one to talk during her mandated sessions and this lead to quite the awkward silence. She sat in her designated chair and did what she had become all too proficient at doing, she waited. The doc made quite a few notes on her legal yellow pad: enough to fill a novel Emma was sure. A novel about Emma was the frightening part.

“I assume you completed your assignment.” Dr. Delaney didn't even glance toward Emma as she questioned her.

“Does it make me predictable if I did?” After the night Emma had, she was feeling rather uncooperative.

“Does it bother you to be predictable?” Still not a glance or even a turn of the head from her pad of paper.

“I don't wanna play 20 questions to diagnose Emma Swan. So yes I did it.” Emma pulled the dreamcatcher from under her shirt. She wasn't about to be caught dead walking the halls with ammo for the other girls to use against her. Delaney took the totem from Emma and gave it the attention she had failed to give Emma since she walked in.

“It's lovely. Why did you pick this piece to make?”

“I dunno.” Emma didn't want to say what she was really thinking. She didn't want to say that it had picked her. She didn't feel like having the straight jacket inducing conversation about a disappearing Native American woman who was better than Houdini. So she settled for the always popular, 'I don't know'.

“Today I'd like to start with why you are in here. I feel it helps to untangle things when we take responsibility for why we find ourselves locked up, both literally and figuratively.” She made up for any missed eye contact she hadn't given Emma in the beginning of the session as soon as she began to grill her.

The conversation was almost entirely one sided; Emma didn't mind. She could listen with ease and give the understanding that she was indeed participating while she was really wondering how well the posters on the wall would work as kindling. She had spent enough time with counselors, psychiatrists and weekend volunteers to know that most just wanted to hear themselves talk and assume they were helping.

“Emma I do expect you to contribute.” She'd almost read Emma's doubtful mind.

“I'm listening.”

“That would be great if that were true but what I really want out of you is for you to talk. That is the point after all.”

“Not for me.” Emma took that stance for the remainder of the hour, not shifting even the slightest. She knew the tactics of the trade and not matter how sincere the doc might have seemed, she was still a government appointed shrink that got paid whether she opened up or not. The session ended with little fuss and Emma walked back to her bunk oblivious to anything more than how hard her heart was beating in her ears.

As night approached and she pulled back the covers of her bed, she whispered a plea to not have the same nightmare tonight. Just sleep, a dreamless empty sleep would suit her just fine. Despite the city lights glow, she could see the stars and that was a good sign enough for her.

Her plea had been of little help when the darkness reached its pinnacle and the dreamcatcher spun to life again. She wanted so desperately to scream, to wake up from what she thought was still a dream. She squinted until her head burned from the pressure, and she looked to her feet but the glow of its light was relentless. She wanted to look so badly, she wasn't sure how she knew but she knew the sleeping child would be there once more and there was no mistaking that he was her little boy.

She looked. She couldn't help herself a minute longer. As she predicted he looked exactly as he did the night before, the image burned into her mind. Tonight he was wearing a white jumper covered in ducks. The fabric looked softer than anything she'd ever felt. Emma's chin shuttered, he had her nose and Neal's ears. 

“Who the hell are you?” A woman filled the screen made of fire and brunette tendrils. Emma fell back into the frame of her bed as the woman spun the image to no longer include the infant. “Are you deaf, I asked who the hell you are and why are you looking in on my son?” Emma's heart beat faster than her breathing could keep up with. The familiar stranger in her nightmares was now in front of her, more vibrant that she remembered. Emma swallowed hard and tried to get the words out.

“E-E-Emma. I'm not looking in. I don't even know how this is happening. I..”

“You're fumbling over yourself far too much to be a mastermind. Though the question still stands. Who are you?”

“I told you. My name is Em-”

“Who you are and the name you go by are very different things. I'm more interested in how you came by a magical dreamcatcher, or is that not what you are using to spy on my son?”

“A what!? Ok it's time to wake up, this is getting weird.”

“You think you're dreaming? Ha! Let me assure you, this is very much real and I suggest you start coming up with better excuses before I hunt you down.”

“Whoo hey ok I have no idea what's happening and come after me and you'll have a fight on your hands.”

“Doubtful, the bars in the background are rather telling.”

“Listen, I have no idea how this is happening or why but I do know that, that is my son over there and-”

“Excuse me, that is most certainly my son. If you mean to tell me you are his birth mother then let me remind you, you made a legally binding decision. He is my son and if you so much as breath in his direction, I will make you pay.” Regina grabbed the dreamcatcher with such rage her knuckles were white, glancing at Emma for a beat longer; she snapped the piece in two severing the connection.


	3. Gonna Give All

Emma woke with a start; she hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours of sleep. She tossed and turned wondering if she needed real medical attention now that she was hallucinating about her son and his adoptive mother. Surely the entire situation could be chalked up to stress. The doc had said it a thousand times over: ‘She had been through a lot in a short time.’ She was determined to go about her day as normal as possible and she was very good at pretending.

The day dragged on as they often do but something was pulling at the back of Emma’s mind. She went about shelving books in the always quite library. Her fingers had passed over thousands of titles, each one with new lands and information stored in their black and white text. She’d never paid much attention to them but today she couldn’t stop thinking about the title of a dusty old manuscript she’d found atop one of the hallway shelves. “Once Upon a Time”, the book seemed older and more sacred than anything a prison library should have. She normally saw romance novels or the newest teen alien drama with the occasional classic pass through the circulation desk but this one actually seemed like an heirloom.

Emma had shoved it beneath the remainder of her stack to shelve. As the pile dwindled she could see the title creep through. She went to the one corner of the library she knew the cameras didn’t reach. Crossed legged like a child, she opened the book and saw the face of the woman she’d seen when she made the dreamcatcher. Her breath caught in her throat choking her. She frantically flipped through the pages, more familiar faces. She saw her son’s adoptive mother as well but these were fairly tales.

That must be it. Emma must have seen the images as a child in a storybook and there were coming through in her dreams. She gripped the sides of the book tighter and with relief thumbed further into the story. The sense of relief that had washed over her was short lived as she stumbled upon a drawing of herself. She threw the book forward and scrambled to her feet. The drawing had shown her at this very moment in time. The same prison mandated outfit on her shoulders and the precise details of her surroundings as she explored the book laid out in her lap. The drawing was a mirror in its details. She couldn’t hear the eerie silent buzz of the library over her breathing.

Emma crept forward and watched as the title glowed and the book re-shelved itself above her head where she’d found it. She clawed at the sides of her face and tapped on her head like she’d done when she was little and wanted to wake up from a nightmare. She was already awake. Her first instinct was to run to the doc and say ‘Yes I’m crazy, lock me up’ but she knew better than to ever involve her. She had to see the woman in the dreamcatcher again. She had to ask her about what was happening. She seemed to know at least more than Emma did.  
SQSQSQSQ

Emma fidgeted on the edge of her bed as she waited for midnight. She’d seen the brunette crack the dreamcatcher in half but she was certain that couldn’t be the end of it. She patiently sat with a tune playing on loop in her mind. One minute past midnight, five minutes past midnight, 30 minutes past midnight and she still sat alone. Emma begin to scoot herself back under the covers of her cot when the unmistakable glow of her dreamcatcher ignited. She grabbed it and ran for the lavatories as fast but silently as she could. She holed up in the largest stale, to not bring attention to herself. How the glow of the dreamcatcher had gone unnoticed until this point was beyond her but she wasn’t about to question it.

“I thought you broke the dreamcatcher.” Emma said smugly.

“So you’re no longer denying it then.” Regina retorted without pause.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, denying what? Really I have more questions than answers so I figured you were my best bet.”

“ You answer my questions first.” Regina’s eyes were almost black when she spoke with intensity. “How are you able to use magic in this world?”

“Ok here’s where I’m lost. Magic is a myth, a pretty fairytale parents tell their children to make the ugly world seem better. I’m guessing this is some sort of technology or something.” Emma stated. Regina burst out laughing a throaty patronizing laugh that reached her chest. She moved closer to the dreamcatcher and caught Emma directly in her eyes.

“It’s sad those who choose to deny what is right in front of their faces. I don’t know if you’re an incredible liar or if you are truly this inept but this is as close to my son as you’ll ever get. I let my curiosity get the better of me tonight but I will sever this connection once and for all.” Regina dropped the dreamcatcher in what Emma could only deduce was a caldron and the image fizzled away.  
SQSQSQSQSQ

The normally pleasant morning sun was a nuisance to Regina today. She’d woken as early as her eyes would allow her. She’d been so filled with rage at the gloating assumptions of this ‘Emma’ she couldn’t bring herself to sleep until almost dawn. The more she turned it over in her mind the more she knew Rumplestiltskin must be involved. She wasn’t sure how he’d managed to stay out of the curse’s memory blocking but she knew him to be far more powerful that he’d ever let slip. Her black, round-toed heels lined up with the welcome mat in front of his pawn shop and the cheery bells rang as she shoved the door open.

“Good morning Madame Mayor. I see you took my advice and sought out business hours as a professional would.” Mr. Gold as he had so ironically been deemed by the curse was polishing a silver dish as she made little time of the distance between them.

“You still want to play this little game fine. How would one go about finding an inmate?”

“You never seize to surprise me. What pray tell would a fine political leader like yourself need with the scum of the Earth as they call them?” Mr. Gold leaned on his ever present cane and came out from behind the glass counter.

“I thought our relationship had an understanding that questions were unnecessary.”

“Ah yes discretion. I know it well but you must also know by now that I rarely do a favor gratis.” Neither was uncomfortable with the minuscule distance between them, each always up for a sparring match.

“Name your price.” Regina’s lip snarled above her gum line.

SQSQSQSQ

Emma held the ridiculous fairytale book in her lap once more. There was no way this could be real, no way that the lady on the other end of the dreamcatcher was at all telling the truth. She knew she was in this book. It could still be a farce, but just in case Emma’s future was in these pages she was going to tread lightly. If she remembered correctly she saw herself about three fourths of the way through the book so it couldn’t hurt to start at the beginning.

The first page was a vivid embroidered title that stood from the surface of the paper. Her heart beat in her throat as her palms clammed up. It was only a book but she felt as if she was trespassing on someone’s life, on their inner most thoughts. As soon as she found the strength to turn the page again she was immersed in the story. It played in her mind like a movie. She saw the birth of two girls to very different mothers. Emma let the words and pictures encase her as she saw one of the children grow to be the woman she saw in the dreamcatcher and the other the woman from her hallucinations. Regina, the name resonated in her chest as a forgotten melody.

How fitting a name can be when more on your life unfolds. The sparkle in the young woman’s eyes faded as the story went on, she began to learn of hatred and resentment. She was only a teen but the fire she had was turning into rage. Emma begged her eyes to read faster as she turned the pages. Regina’s mother was distant and unnecessarily cruel, her father a pillar to her but a coward. The young girl began to fall in love. As Emma went to turn the page, she found it blank. She frantically flipped through the pages knowing yesterday there had been more. She grabbed a chunk of the book and looked for the picture of her sitting with the fairytales. It appeared just as it had the day before but now it was accompanied by a picture of her searching through the book.

Emma threw the book against the case blocking her from the security cameras and watched it once again shelve itself. She had been sure all the answers she needed would be in the book. She had learned of the other woman’s origin and name but little else. How could the book leave the most important details blank? Now that Regina, it was nice to have a name for her, had severed the connection permanently she wondered why she was invested at all. She had given her son up willingly and his new mother seemed capable and protective. Maybe the strange last few days had been there to offer her solace and show her that the boy was fine.

Emma spent the rest of the day thinking about anything else. She actually focused on the tasks in front of her and did a better job at her assigned chores than she ever had. The day crept along and she was once again undoing the sheets to her bed, ready to face a hopefully restful sleep. Knowing her chances of interruption were slim to none now, she fell asleep quickly.

The clock on the wall chimed midnight and the unexpected glow of the dreamcatcher appeared. Emma had placed it under her pillow for safe keeping and it lit up her entire head. She stirred thinking the sun was creeping through the window only to jump back as she saw where the light was coming from. She crossed her legs and leaned against the wall that framed her bed. She hesitated before picking up the catcher, unsure why it was activating again. She slowly brought it to her face. Regina looked furious.

“The powerful witch Emma Swan shows her face again. I used what little magic I had left to get rid of this connection. I even destroyed the dreamcatcher with my own two hands and yet here you are again.”

“Regina, I’m not a witch. I…”

“How do you know my name?!” Regina’s eyes went dark as her cheeks reddened.

“I found a book in the library or rather it found me. It was a storybook, I started to browse through it and there you were.”

“Do you often browse through others private lives? Tell me how far into my story did you get? I’m guessing not far or there would be fear in your eyes.”

“The middle pages were missing, I saw you fall in love and then nothing but blank pages.” Emma felt scolded like a child under the gaze of a disapproving teacher.

“Don’t you dare speak of things you don’t understand! Since you enjoy stories so much let me tell you another one. Emma Swan, a small orphan girl, enters the system and causes mayhem wherever she goes. No one seems to want her or truly loves her. So she lives her days on the streets with no need for anyone until she becomes an adult, where she finds that actions have far too many consequences. She gives birth behind bars and never sees her child grow up. What a pitiful little story, wouldn’t you say?” Regina took pleasure in each word that dripped from her mouth. Her eyes were as sinister as a coyote and she drove the point home with a smile.

“Do you think you’re the first person who has read my files?” Emma retorted despite the glisten forming in her eyes. “You think that you’re ahead of the game because you broke who knows how many laws yourself to get those files. I know better than anyone that a piece of paper never tells the whole story. I wanted answers so yes I read about your life from a book, the same book that found me in the first place. I have no idea what the hell is going on or why but it doesn’t seem to be stopping. I’ll be damned if I don’t find out why even if I have to make an enemy of the almighty Regina.

“I make a hell of an enemy little girl. Choose your steps wisely.” The image cut out.


	4. Never Forget it

Day 6:  
The days became nights faster than they had in months as Regina searched through her magic books for any trace of how the dreamcatchers were connected. Each day she’d come up with nothing as her fingers bleed from the paper cuts her aged books gave them. Each night she would see Emma just as midnight rang through. She tried to ignore the calls with every means she could construct. The first night, she placed it in the drawer of her night table to no avail. The next night she put the catcher under a heap of blankets in the hall closet only to be woken up by its blinding light. Each time it only extinguished after she once again hollered at Emma. Two days later she escalated her attempts and buried the dreamcatcher within a locked chest in her vault. To her horror it did little to keep it from hovering above her head as the clock chimed.  
Emma did no such tasks to keep the catcher from visiting her. She was far too curious. Each night as Regina's anger rose she snickered. They sparred over why and how this was possible. Regina repeated daily how an uninterrupted night of sleep was a far off dream. Neither got much accomplished. Emma found the consistency comforting though she'd never let it on.  
Regina insulted Emma’s competence and branded her a liar on every occasion. Both did little to stop the fighting. On the eleventh night Emma was so exhausted she slept through the light alarm and it began to glow throughout her block. The small partitions that divided her space from the others offered little in the way of a veil. The women began to stir and cuss as they were woken up. Emma woke at the startled grumblings, grabbed the dreamcatcher and buried herself under the blankets.  
“Regina, dammit, this is ridiculous! This damn thing almost woke up everyone. I don't exactly know how to explain this without being thrown into a straight jacket!” Regina cackled.   
“Good night Ms. Swan” and the catcher extinguished.  
SQSQSQSQSQ  
After a similar incident with Henry both women began to wait up expectantly knowing there was little they could do to stop the intrusive catcher. After almost a month of nonstop interruptions to their sleep patterns, Emma visited the book again. Each day that had passed since the last time she'd visited was represented with a new page but there were still blank pages for Regina's story. She poured over the entries from beginning to end again. There must be a piece of information I missed the first time. She feverishly turned the pages and found that she had already memorized the important details. She'd see Regina tonight, perhaps she finally could get somewhere with her.  
Day 31:  
“Don’t you think at some point it might be a good idea if we actually talked?”  
“Why would we ever do that?” Regina retorted.  
“It only deactivates when we talk, so maybe that's the point.”  
“Look who is playing detective, I never took you for the astute type.”  
“Regina, are the hostilities necessary?” Emma questioned, irritated.  
“It's Mayor Mills to you.”  
“You're a mayor?” Emma sat up straighter, intrigued. Regina's brows arched further having not intended to give her any more information about herself.  
“Goodnight.”  
Day 36:  
“Hello Madame Mayor.” Emma let every ounce of her sarcasm swirl. She’d used the same opening line every night for the past week.  
“Gloating is not an attractive quality on you, dear.”  
“Let me guess. You spent your day shuffling paperwork and demanding a pay increase for the leader of your town, yourself. I'm guessing it's a small town you run cause your name doesn't come up for any of the large metropolitan areas.”  
“That's an awfully large word for you. Almost as long as your DOC number I'm sure.”  
“Ouch. You're witty, I like it.” Emma gave Regina the first sincere smile she'd ever directed at her.  
“Don't be misled. I trust you like I do a snake. This inconvenient situation we find ourselves in doesn't change that.” Regina placed the dreamcatcher under her pillow and found the sleep she'd been craving since her eyes opened that morning.

Day 44:  
The doc was late, which left Emma staring at the ever annoying motivational dolphin on her wall. It had to have been at least 30 minutes since the guards had left her but the clock confirmed it had only been five minutes. She wasn't sure how but she was certain this particular room was a portal where time moved extremely slowly. Emma was pulled from her contemplations as the door whooshed open. The doc was in a hurried state, her hair not quite the 'not a strand out of place' situation she was used to.  
“I apologize for my tardiness, Ms. Swan.”  
Emma shrugged and dug herself deeper into the couch cushions. Delaney threw her disheveled purse onto her desk and patted the frizzed hair on the top of her head down. She smoothed the wrinkles from the end of her skirt, grabbed her ever present note pad and sat with a*humf*.  
“Today I'd like to discuss the reasons behind your new calmer demeanor. I've noticed you don't take to hostility like you have in the past.”  
Emma froze as the doc looked her straight in the eye. She had been so preoccupied with the dreamcatcher and Regina, she hadn't paid much attention to how she was interacting with her therapist. She tried to compose herself and go to the same movie she played in her head she always did when Delaney required anything from her.  
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Emma gave all of her attention to the dirt under her fingernails.  
“I doubt that. Whatever you have been doing differently seems to be having a positive effect on your well-being and I would suggest you continue it.” Dr. Delaney returned to her pre-prepared notes and went on to another topic.  
It was a blur, the journey from the therapist’s office to her secret corner in the library. She'd taken to reading the pages that appeared after every interaction she had with Regina. The morning after she found out Regina was a mayor, there was a random illustration of a court house with Regina cutting the ribbon to it. The Mayor was covered head to toe in a perfectly tailored pant suit with a red, white and blue 'Mayor' ribbon pinned to her collar commemorating the new building. Emma laughed herself into a fit seeing the always regal Regina in such a getup.  
Day 57:  
The weeks had begun to fly by instead of the drudgery she was so used to. Companionship had done wonders for Emma, giving her something to work for. It wasn’t quite the positive friendship she envisioned but there was something very comforting about Regina’s bite. She kept her meetings with the mayor from Dr. Delaney. Emma knew she would never believe her and she would try to put her on medication or in the psych ward. The doc was getting suspicious about just what was causing Emma’s dramatic change anyway.  
It was her favorite time of the day, the only moment she felt some semblance of freedom, though she still didn't attribute it to its actual source. She thought it was her getting used to her surroundings and finding a small equilibrium from hearing about the outside world. Long gone were the days when she only sparred with Regina. She wasn't quite sure when those days disappeared but somewhere along the line, the anger dissipated enough for the small talk to begin. She didn't asked about Henry. She'd made that mistake. She knew it was the fastest way to send Regina down a protective rage filled spiral. Occasionally Regina would mention him when telling her about her day and not notice she had. Those were the moments Emma craved most. The small totem began to spin and within moments, Regina's face was beaming back at her.

“My very own inmate, lucky me.” Regina smiled at Emma, pleased with her wit as ever.”  
“Yes you're hilarious, I get it.”  
“Never forget it.”

The conversations had been light except for one particularly vulnerable night. Regina seemed distant and lonely, like the days were too heavy for her shoulders alone to bare. Emma hadn’t even said hello before Regina began telling her the twisted story of her first loves death. It had happened so unexpectedly, Emma thought she was playing her at first but Regina spoke with such a light tone the truth rang through. Regina told the story like she had wanted to tell someone of the pain she held inside for centuries. Her eyes said she just couldn't keep it inside anymore.  
Emma didn't mind the usual small talk but she craved to know Regina's secrets. She wanted to know the things that she held dear, the reasons she was so irritable. Tonight, Regina had the same look of needing to unload that she did the night she told Emma about Daniel. Emma once again stayed silent as Regina released a lifetime of heartache.  
“I was pregnant once before. I can still count on my fingers the number of people who knew about the child, her father not included.” Regina's breath was ragged but she was determined to steel through the uncomfortably necessary exchange.  
Emma watched as her chocolate eyes glazed with the emotion she was fighting so hard to restrain. She didn't dare move or give any gesture that might frighten Regina from finishing her story. She simply sat until she was ready. Regina fidgeted, which she rarely did, she was far too composed to let weakness leak through her movement, but before Emma her well-worn habits seemed frail. At some point during their confessionals, Regina had taken to using the flecks of grey in Emma's eyes as a focal point. When she was caught up in the silver dots sprinkled throughout Emma's eyes, there seemed to be nothing hurtful she couldn’t share. There was nothing that might take her hostage again. Now she'd rely on them again to guide her.  
“I didn't know I was pregnant until after Daniel died. Yes I said it was an innocent love but we couldn't help ourselves. I wanted to know him fully and we did. I had planned on running away and keeping the child but fate is very cruel.” Regina didn't feel the need to hide how painful her memories resurfacing were.  
“I had packed my few precious belongings and waited until night fall. There was an exit through the servant’s quarters that my mother still didn't know about. Just as the sun set I snuck down the stairs and through the halls. I made it to the hill a half a mile from home when I felt the prickle of magic on the back of my neck. My mother lifted me up unto the air by my chest. She squeezed my entire body until every muscle screamed to be let go. I remember my ribs poked into my lungs and my back spasming from the pressure. Just before I was about to lose consciousness, she hurled me down the side of the hill.” Regina was very clinical in her storytelling, only the facts, for if she delved into emotions she would surely drown.  
“I woke up as the sun was rising and I could only take shallow breathes. As I began to stand, I noticed the bottom of my dress was covered in blood. I knew instantly I would never know our child. I never spoke of her. I was never even sure she was a ‘her’, just a feeling I couldn't shake.” Regina broke eye contact and shuttered. She didn't focus on anything in particular just the space between the air.  
“Regina, I...”  
“I think I've had enough for tonight.” She didn't give more than a beat before the connection was severed, leaving Emma in her cell to curse Regina's mother's name.  
SQSQSQSQSQ  
When Emma went to her fairy tale book the next day, the pages from Regina's past were vast and far more than she could have imagined. She read about the young girl she saved from the horse, the one from her hallucinations, and the evil king she didn't love. She saw more of the light drain from Regina's eyes. She knew where the light went; hers had gone to the same nameless place. She saw the genie from Agrabah and his sinister plans, just as she saw a chunk of Regina's light leave with her husbands murder. Emma wanted so badly to ask her about it all, if only to comfort her but that's not how this worked. Regina offered her crumbs from time to time and she ate hungrily but never asked for more.   
“Good evening Ms. Swan.”  
“Evening, it's after midnight?! And it’s Emma.”  
“You certainly wouldn't have me say goodnight just as we begin would you… Emma.”  
“Fair enough, tell me about your day. Is Leroy still trying to sue the city?  
“Yes, he is still the thorn in my side that he has always been, but besides being a petulant drunk, he doesn't seem to be much of an opponent.”  
“He's keeping the Mayor busy though.”  
“Unfortunately yes but it's all in a day’s work. You seem rather chipper. Do share.”  
“I spoke to the doc today and she put in a good word for me with the parole board. They were impressed with my progress and knocked two months off my sentence, granted I have to maintain my good behavior.”  
“Congratulations.”  
“Listen I have some questions that have been bugging me for a while. Questions about …magic.”  
“Don't be a scared child, go ahead and ask.” Emma side eyed Regina, who hadn't quite gotten the hang of not insulting others at every turn.  
“Why haven't you offered to get me out of here? I understand you don't particularly care for me but you know I was framed and you have magic so...”  
“Magic doesn't work outside of Storybrooke you know that... except this dreamcatcher of course. However that's beside the point, whether you did the crime or not you have to finish your sentence. It’s the only way to pay for the things that you did do.”  
“What! That's ridiculous. You're telling me you won't help me because of some moral dilemma? You're not a saint. I’ve seen the things you’ve done.” The anger that had so often accompanied Emma to their early meetings was creeping up around her eyes.  
“Wasn't your initial inquiry plural? Ask now while I still feel like sharing.”  
“You aren't getting off the hook that easy, this is really pissing me-”  
“Now or never, Ms. Swan.”  
“Forget it, I don't deserve anything from you apparently.”  
The connection cut out as Emma threw the dreamcatcher to the corner of the room and buried her head in her pillow. Regina had told her some about the time that was still missing from the book but she knew no one could carry as much rage and resentment as Regina did and not have a past she was ashamed of. She let her thoughts lull her to sleep.  
SQSQSQSQSQSQSQ  
Day 84:  
The thump of the curtains on her open office window was becoming all she could concentrate on. She drummed her pen in time with the rhythm of the bouncing end of the curtain string. The piles of paper work hadn't gotten smaller as the week went on. She was trying not to think of why Emma hadn't been at their midnight call. She knew she had angered Emma when she refused to help her but she didn’t know the whole story. She might have seen a few of Regina’s evil deeds but nothing like what was actually hiding in the dark. When she had tried to miss a call the dreamcatcher practically jumped into bed with her. How Emma had managed it she wasn't sure. She should have been relieved that she was finally free from the nuisance but a nagging feeling pulled at her.  
Regina hadn't stopped looking into Emma's past despite the friendly conversations they had on the daily. There was an element to their connection that she was missing and she was determined to find it. There was something about Emma's eyes that seems so completely familiar but infuriating. She couldn't let it go. The drum of her pen was interrupted by a knock on her office door.  
“Enter.” Regina didn't look up as someone entered. “I'm quite busy.”  
“I'm sorry Ms. Mills, I just wanted to talk to you about the fundraiser for the school.”  
Regina would recognize the far too peppy voice of Mary-Margaret from anywhere. She rolled her eyes extensively before looking up to meet her gaze. She froze. Mary-Margaret continued on about the preparations and funding the mayor’s office had promised the school. All the while Regina's eyes grew wider and her jaw slacked. She shook her head and tried to rationalize the similarity she saw in Mary-Margaret’s eyes.  
“No, it can't be.” Regina whispered under her breath.  
“What was that Mayor?” Mary-Margaret smiled at her.  
“That'll be all Ms. Blanchard. I'll take care of the preparations.” Regina's voice cracked as it dried out from the shock. The first grade teacher was ushered out of the room by Regina's assistant. All the while Regina couldn't take her eyes off of the bowl of blood red apples on her coffee table.


	5. Perhaps

Night crept up on Regina as she sat up waiting for Emma to appear. She half expected the entire dreamcatcher experience to be a ruse set up by Rumplestiltskin and she'd never see Emma again. It seemed like a perfect way to gloat about the origins of her son. She still wasn't convinced he wasn't aware of their previous identities. Her thoughts were interrupted by the catchers light. Regina looked up at Emma to see the very distinct bruising of a black eye and stitches through her bottom lip.  
“What the hell happened to you?!”  
“Someone took the dreamcatcher. I tore my cell apart looking for it. Let's just say I took care of the person who took it.”  
“I thought the reason you didn’t show was because I wouldn’t help you. Was it absolutely necessary to get into a fight?”  
“About that, I kinda forfeited any early release went I hit her. At least we know it won't activate if someone else has it.” Emma chuckled, quickly grabbing at her lip in pain.  
“You sacrificed freedom for this stupid dreamcatcher. Why would you do that?”  
“I thought maybe one day you'd let me see Henry and... other reasons.”  
“Over my dead body, you're reckless and can't control your anger better than a five year old. Goodnight, Ms. Swan.” Regina skimmed over Emma’s other reasons and raged over how selfish the girl could be.  
Day 102:  
The conversations over the next month consisted of hellos and goodbyes. Regina couldn't bring herself to look at Emma's eyes, the same eyes that belonged to her oldest friend and worst enemy. Emma was just as persistent in wanting distance. She knew she'd messed up yet again. She didn't deserve to see her child or even converse with his mother. She had given into the endless cycle of self-sabotage that had been her life. She checked the book religiously but the hole remained.  
“Are we gonna be hellos and goodbyes forever cause this is getting really old really fast.”  
“I don't have anything else to say to you.” Regina had perfected being cold as ice.  
“Good, then listen. I always screw up the good things that come my way. Always. I can't help it. When I was seven I got the best foster parents I had ever had and I set their basement on fire. When I was sixteen I had a mentor that was going to help me get into college and I stole from her. This is me Regina. I've tried to change but it always seems to come back to haunt me.” She paused to see if Regina was still with her. Regina was unwavering in her chilled expression but didn't ask her to stop.  
“I push people away especially the people I care about the most.”  
Regina's skin tingled with the goosebumps that rose from her arms. Her face shifted for the first time since the dreamcatcher had shown her Emma's face. She felt the breeze from her open window rustle her loose hair. She suddenly smelled the perfume that sat on her vanity and the lotion she'd rubbed into her hands five minutes before. The more she tried to block out what Emma was saying, or more what she wasn’t saying; her senses flooded with her surroundings.  
“This concerns me how, Ms. Swan?”  
“Stop it, you only call me that when you want to push me away.” Regina began to protest only to have Emma jump over her words. “No, I can always tell. I know a thing or two about you, not everything, not a lot at all but I can tell what your facial expressions mean and when you have something on your mind. I know that when the vein in your forehead pops but your eyes are soft you are dealing with emotions you wish you didn't have to. I know when you insult me after you've told me a secret it's because you don't want to get too close. I know you. God dammit Regina, I’m no good at this either but I’m trying to tell you I have feelings for you!”  
“You only know what I've let you know. If you really knew me you'd quake in fear. You think you have feelings for me? They should be feelings of loathing and revenge. How could you ever feel anything for the person who made you the weak orphan you are?” Regina screamed as her lungs burned. She had let it slip, she could fell it all come bubbling out of her and then tumbling down. Henry began to wail in the background.  
“What the hell are you talking about?”  
“Check your precious book. I’ve said enough now the pages should have filled themselves in.”  
Regina threw the catcher through her open window as the picture fizzled out. She let the red hot tears she'd been holding back burn her cheeks. Emma was about to see all of the things that she had tried to bury with the Evil Queen, the hearts crushed to ash and the revenge that ruled the days. She lifted the still screaming Henry from his crib and cried with him.  
SQSQSQSQSQSQ  
The next morning her eyes ached from shed tears as she covered up the bags under them with foundation. She was a shell through most of the day; answering questions from her assistant she didn’t remember hearing. She did a ribbon cutting at a new hardware store and couldn’t recall its name. She signed paper she hadn’t read and couldn’t remember if she’d eaten anything.   
She didn’t need reminding that the only reason she was feeling as if the world was collapsing in on itself was because she’d started to rely and trust the one person she had hurt more than anyone else. A banished baby without a chance in the world now greeted her good evening every night. It made her thoughts swirl, knowing she’d never see her again, that she wouldn’t get to vent about the absurdity of small town politics and the dealings of her wretched heart. The day dragged on and only upon seeing Henry’s face did she perk up. She left work early to pick up the toddler. She brought him to his favorite baby jungle gym and smiled as he played without a care in the world. She let his innocence clear her conscience.  
Regina put Henry to bed early and poured a glass of wine. She expected the hours between now and the last time she would ever see Emma to drag on. She sat in silence and nursed her Cabernet. The white upholstered chair she sat in became her bed as night became dawn with no sign of Emma. Just as the sun began to rise, the light of the dreamcatcher appeared. Regina rushed to it. Emma had clearly read the book.  
“I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know how to handle what I saw or who I am. After everything I told you. After how Neal lied to me, how every person I had ever known lied to me, every foster family who gave up on me and person who abandoned me. I told you how important the truth was to me. I told you I trusted you! Did that trust mean so little? Do I mean so little? For God sake I trust you with my son.” Emma let the anger bleed out of her.  
“This isn’t about trust. I have Henry because of the decisions you made. Don't you dare blame me for that. Don’t you ever blame me for protecting my son. Yes I did all of those heinous things you saw, every last one of them, and there is no forgiving something like that. I own that. I decided to keep those details to myself but I never lied.”  
“You could have told me you knew why the dreamcatchers were connected and that you know who my mother and father are! At the very least you could have told me who you were. When you know the whole truth but decide to keep it to yourself, that's worse than a lie! How can I know Henry is safe with you!!?”  
“How dare you, I would never hurt him. I would never lay a finger on him. I told you who I am, not who I was. How do you think you would have handled it? Oh by the way Emma, I'm the Evil Queen from your nightmares. I've had whole villages destroyed at my command and crushed the hearts of the innocent to feel the powder trickle through my fingers. I threw your entire family into a curse so you had to live a life of loneliness. That's me! Yes Emma, find it in your heart to love the Evil Queen, the one that haunts the nightmares of children the world over, tell her sweet dreams every night. Oh and to add to injury, dreamcatchers only work in worlds without magic if you're linked by true love. I know nothing happens without a reason and nothing happens without a price. I lived those prices and I would never have Henry go through the same thing.” Regina's face was beet red with the telltale vein bulging down the front of her forehead. Her eyes widened as her anger increased. Her chest heaved up and down as she waited to be met with a fight.  
“This is where it ends isn't it.” Emma asked quieter than Regina expected.  
SQSQSQSQSQ  
Day 208:  
For the better part of three months, Regina spent her afternoons with Henry playing blocks and teaching him to color. She threw herself into work and gave her son the love she had always been denied. She should have wanted for nothing but her nights were lonesome. She wasn’t surprised when Emma didn’t show up the first day or the fifth but as the weeks became months she felt her absence more and more. Each night was accompanied by a glass of wine and her white chair. She shouldn’t have waited at all. She knew the things she’d done, especially to Emma. She was never going to see her again. It was probably best that way. She drifted to sleep once more, spilling the remainder of her glass on the carpet. The warm glow of the dreamcatcher filled the room but Regina didn’t stir. Emma’s face filled the center.   
“Regina” she watched as the clearly exhausted woman tossed and turned but wasn’t woken by Emma’s voice. Emma sat and watched her sleep for longer than she probably should have but seeing a peaceful Regina was such a site to behold. She had fully intended to have to argue with her and convince her that none of what she had seen mattered anymore but seeing her sleep, drained any fight Emma had left. “You’re pretty when you’re not arguing with me.” She whispered. She kissed the image good night and went to sleep herself.  
Day 209:  
The swirling dreamcatcher caught her by surprise as she was feeding Henry. He was seated in his high chair and making a mess of this steamed carrots. Regina dropped the fork in her hand and the clank of the metal on her stone floors filled the kitchen.  
“Hello, Regina.” Emma smiled, waiting for her to speak.  
“Hello.”  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t handle finding out about everything well.”  
“It’s been three months. I never expected to see you again.” Regina was holding back tears as Henry squealed. Emma couldn’t help but see him through the corner of the catcher.  
“Can I see him?” Emma bit her raw lip as she let the plea slip from her mouth. Her eyes hadn't been dry since the thought entered her mind. She moved her fingers frantically not making eye contact with Regina, afraid of the answer to her request. Emma’s eyes were on her feet. The moments ticked by with no answer from Regina. She merely breathed and the staggering feeling of defeat echoed between her ears. When she found the strength to venture a glance, her latest breath found a hitch in her throat.  
Regina's silence was understood. She was holding a lively Henry in her arms. He'd grown so much since Emma had seen him sleeping in his crib. She didn't notice the grin that had emerged on Regina's face. She was too busy noticing every facet of her son's.  
“He's grown so much.” Emma chocked out trying to not let her tears betray her.  
“He is eight months old and the doctors say he is quite the big boy.” Regina knew that Emma knew to the day how old Henry was but she felt it needed to be said. She felt that she needed a reminder that she had been there for each one of those eight months and she would be there every day that followed. Regina continued “I can't believe how long he's been with me, I can't believe I ever functioned without him. I don't think I would have made it without him. This town was a never ending shade of grey and then there was Henry.” Regina finished the statement in her mind with 'and then there was you.’ She said it, even if just to herself. Regina nuzzled her nose into Henry's chest and smiled so brightly.  
“He’s beautiful.”  
“Emma I'd like you to see him one day. In person, to see his little toes and how he wrinkles his nose when he meets someone new. To see how he looks like you .”  
“You're not afraid to have me near him.”  
“Not anymore.”  
“When I talk to you I can't tell if I'm falling or flying.” Emma blurted out the confession. “I’ve had a lot of time to think and I know you’re not the Evil Queen. I know you. We all become victims of our own choices, if we can’t get out from under them. You got out. I only have a couple months left here and I'm not quite sure what I'll do. I’m not sure where my place is.”   
“I know your place. Come home to us.”   
SQSQSQSQSQQS  
Day 372:  
Emma’s boots were mud stained from puddles left by the afternoon rain. She wasn’t used to how often it rained up north. She shuffled her feet the closer she got to the walkway. Before her was a mansion by any standard, white as a dove. Columns reached from the ground to the second story terrace. Immaculate ivy grew on the side of the house as grand bushes framed the door. Her feet brought her to the entry way and her fist lifted to the door, knocking three times.  
The door swung open to a face Emma had craved to see. The dark brown of her eyes and hair were enough to bring her to tears. She knew her beauty but not like this, not close enough to touch.  
“Hey.”   
“You're Henry's birth mother.” Regina's eyes glistened as she studied every facet of Emma. She knew her lineage and her mistakes. She knew her. Somewhere along the way strangers had become friends and then something more.  
“Hi” Emma rubbed the back of her calf with her foot trying to calm her nerves. She had her hands buried so deep in her pockets she thought they may rip the seams. She stood in place unsure if the distance between them was appropriate. Regina wasted no time closing the gap between them. Her hand went straight to Emma’s jaw as her thumbs rubbed the flushed skin below them. She had never laid eyes on Emma in the flesh but her cheek felt as she knew it would, perfectly in place under her touch. She took in just how emerald Emma’s eyes were and with a tilt of her head, connected their lips.  
Perhaps it mattered that Regina used to be the Evil Queen or that Emma was still far from fully trusting anyone. Perhaps it was the will of something larger than them that had started this journey or perhaps none of it really mattered. Emma knew the truth, maybe not all the dark scary bits but she knew Regina’s heart now. Emma had yet to meet her lost family, or understand the extent to which magic existed. Each still had a million secrets and fears that could get in the way. There was still so much they had never discussed. There were so many game changing aspects they had just begun to touch upon, but for the first time they had time on their side and each other, and that was all they needed.


End file.
